Safe
by Kayt
Summary: IRON MAN 3 SPOILERS Set after the post-credits sequence. Extremis is the good stuff, or could be. It takes a village, or at least your friendly neighborhood rage-monster-slash-MD and genius-billionaire-engineer to work through some of the implications. Turns out it's not so easy to wipe out the past, especially when the past comes complete with a big ol' crater in the chest.


It's more than possible to coax the souped-up microwave in the shop to make the good kind of shells-n-cheese, non-Easy-Mac, Velveeta cheese-food, accept no substitutes. Bruce should know. There's something to be said for science in the good ol' US of A, even if Tony's shop wasn't every practical scientist's candyland. He'll make some as soon as Tony's done with his melodramatic little couch-ramble that he's only indulging in because he's scorched his fingers and hasn't slept in 36 hours and he can't shut up if he tries and he just needs to say this stuff out loud to someone who won't grimly set about trying to fix the unfixable with terrifying efficiency borne of a couple of decades of practice with Tony Before. Bruce would resent it but Pepper and Rhodes have long since lost the trick of listening with only half an ear when Tony's saying something real even when that's what Tony wants - needs, really, would be a good way of putting it. They've been taking care of him for so long that it's hard to get out of the habit. Bruce gets that, he does. There's friends, and there's _friends,_ and he's only ever known Sort of Stable Tony. It makes a difference. He'll make two packs. Yeah. Maybe there's even some carrot sticks left over from Pepper's latest attempts to stave off processed foodstuffs. Breakfast of champions.

"I just... _stable_ is a strong word or we'd be shipping it out to every kid in America with tissue damage, c'mon, Brucie-bear, you know that's how I'd do it. I'm wounded. I'm hurt. Your silence is hurtful."

"Mmhmm," Bruce hums, agreeable. Extremis is still a bit of a mess, easier to reverse than tweak into something safe enough for medical use. Lord knows they've been trying. At first he'd thought... Well, he's used to disappointment. It still stings, don't get him wrong. He hasn't had a hope that hot and hard in... In ever, maybe, if he feels like honest, which isn't wise, because he can feel _Him_ rumbling around when he thinks of it, and it's a sticky mess of disappointment and maybe His self-preservation but he doesn't have the luxury at really examining the pieces and parts of that feeling, now, does he. Three deep breaths. Inhale, exhale. Inhale, exhale. In-hale.

"... biological clock talking. I just, listen, I value my life, never let it be said Tony Stark doesn't know when to shut up."

Bruce doesn't even try to contain his snort.

Tony presses a hand to his chest. "That hurts, Jolly Green. Ouch. I'm just saying, the bloodwork's good these days but I don't want to saddle Junior with the Ghost of Heavy Metals Not So Long Past and it's not like there's a big sample size for 'so you were briefly a hot fire-demon' - redundant, you say, you're making very loud faces, you know, but seriously, Christ on a Keebler, should'a seen her - 'and then we patched that up again, so how's about we see what that does to chromosome transfer in utero' not that she's said it, but seriously, Starks, not cut out for..."

"You'd be a great dad, Tony," Bruce says, voice carefully patient. Tony's face does that complicated origami that means he's freaked out and flattered and trying really hard to pretend he doesn't have any setting other than flippant.

"Yeah, Opposite Day is Wednesday, ask Barton, it's on the calendar..."

Bruce takes a really deep breath. "I don't suppose you've talked to Pepper about..."

"Yes? Sort of? I don't know, like I was _saying_, she won't let me..." A silence. All right. This is taking a turn for the Code Red.

Tony grasps a handful of shirt. "I don't like... Just a block of plastic in there? Because, hello, waste of space, I used to have the chest of the _future_ and if I have to..."

Bruce carefully avoids eye contact. Tony swallows, loud in the sudden stillness. "I miss it?"

"OK," Bruce says. Tony's knuckles are white against his handful of shirt. Wide-eyed silence. Times like this, Bruce really wishes he did have some therapy training, "Does it hurt?"

Tony's eyes slide to the side. "Maybe? Ok, nine and a half rock-hard inches..." Bruce snorts. "The bones have spread?"

"...and Extremis can't work fast enough to patch up the kind of damage we'd do pulling the port out." Ok. Tony's pale, breathing too fast. Abort. Abort. "If we were considering that, which we aren't, mice trials..."

"Right." Tony runs a shaky hand through his hair, hissing when it drags across his scorched fingers. "Right. Yes. That."

"Efficiency," Bruce says, and there we go, he has Tony's eyes are back on Bruce. "You're an engineer, that's wasted space..." Oh man. A physical flinch. "I mean, not being used to capacity, not wasted. Stop looking at me. I'm not a words guy."

Tony's smile is pained but at least there's a little sincerity lurking in it. "More numbers. Well, roaring plus numbers, which, hey..."

"I deserved that."

"Yeah you did."

"I'm just..." Bruce swallows, hard. Deep breaths. "You know, when we were going through the first trials I thought..." He tries to trail off, but Tony's stubbornly not filling the silence for once. "I thought, hey, this could be it and I was thrilled but also..." Deep breaths, deep breaths. "Also _scared._ I'm used to Him, He's useful..."

"He kinda makes you feel safe," Tony finishes, quiet. His mouth jerks left, his eyes right.

His teeth are grinding. "He's useful. I'm... useful, with him."

The silence is way too heavy. Tony's feeling it, too - he shimmy-squirms on the couch. "Yeah, good talk. Hey, wanna see my scar?"

"Tony, god," Bruce grumbles, but he's laughing, too, lets Tony steal his hand and press it to the edge of the port where's he's rucked up his shirt with the ease of thorough practice. The skin around the port is thick, tough. Solid.

"You're on my freebie list, you know," Tony drawls, waggling his eyebrows.

A good yank at just the right angle and Tony's on the floor, crazy laugh filling the lab. Suspicious rustling and then, "Hey! Blueberries. Sealed, certified 100-percent lab-floor-tetanus free."

Bruce smirks, steals a handful and ignore's Tony's grumbling. Business as usual feels... surprisingly good these days.


End file.
